


Absolutely (Story of a Girl)

by iswintyouswint



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, High School, Throwback, remembering the good times when RAZR flip phones were the shit and we all loved Maroon 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-10-29 12:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10853907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iswintyouswint/pseuds/iswintyouswint
Summary: It was 2005 and all you wanted were two more trophies to put on your living room mantle. It was 2005 but you couldn't stop planning for 2010. It was 2005 when you met her.





	1. Just A Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My reason for writing this is 20% for nostalgic purposes and 80% because I wanted to use Christen’s AIM screen name in a fic. This seemed like the most logical way.

You were 16 years old and eager for the future. Summer was coming to a close, yet you didn't even bother pretending you were sad about it. Sure, you’d miss going to the beach whenever you wanted, climbing the dunes behind your house and going for a morning walk on the shore with your dogs. But you wouldn’t miss the free time. Contrary to most of the kids your age, you hated free time. You hated that there were minutes in the day that couldn’t be put towards bettering yourself in the classroom or on the pitch. There were those who thought you crazy because of it, but you tried your best to distance yourself from them and instead gravitate toward those who understood. 

So, it was 5:45 on a Saturday evening when you pulled up to the indoor sports complex, unable to tame your beaming smile as you walked through the tall glass double doors. Immediately, you were hit with the sights and sounds that had become quite familiar to you over the past decade or so. The muffled _thump_ of a ball as it connected with a worn leather cleat, the bright neon orange of a pop-up training net, R. Kelly’s latest hits blaring as loud as the Sony boombox set in the corner of the room could carry.

But perhaps the greatest familiarity to hit your senses was the roar of laughter relaying around the room—a group of girls becoming reacquainted with one another, filling in the gaps that inevitably followed a month spent apart. Your smile grew even wider then; though it really hadn’t been _that_ long since you’d seen most of them, there was always something about being reunited in this particular setting that sent the blood pumping through your veins a little stronger and the weight of everything suddenly stopped feeling so heavy.  

“And then I swear to God, this shark is at least three feet long,”—a few gasps—“and I just use all the arm strength I have left to paddle the fuck out of there. Barely made it out alive.”

You approached the bustling group at the tail-end of what seemed to be an invigorating story, if only because of the person telling it.

“Oh Kelley,” you spoke up once within earshot, “I doubt you were in any danger, that shark probably took off the minute it saw your face.” 

At that, everyone turned towards you. You held your breath, for a split second no one spoke and you were afraid Kelley had taken your words too literally. You didn’t get the chance to apologize as the gang bombarded you all at once, calls of the different variations of your name accompanied by butt taps and side hugs. 

Once the greeting frenzy had died down, you made eye contact with Julie—your fellow teammate for both school and club (not to mention one of your best friends)—and made to walk over to her. Before you could get very far though, Alex threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you back.

“Press, it’s been _ages_!” Alex spoke earnestly. 

“We literally saw each other last week,” you pointed out, laughing as Alex just squinted and shrugged. 

“It’s been ages since we’ve been on the field in our jerseys,” she corrected. “And I for one, cannot wait to fucking _smash_ the competition this year.”  

There were a few whoops and hollers at that. 

“Ah, sweet, sweet revenge,” Kelley sighed dramatically, making a show of placing her chin on her palm and looking off into the distance.

Your shoulders slumped the slightest degree, reminded of last season and all its shortcomings. Losing before even reaching the semifinals had been disheartening to say the least. You loved everything about being on the Slammers, from the personnel to the extremely high standard of excellence to the opportunity for growth. But for all that was right, there had been just enough wrong last season to keep your team from rising to the top. That had been the hardest disappointment to face, but you’d made a promise to yourself not to dwell on it much this upcoming season. Its impact would remain in pushing yourself and your team to do better, but no more. 

Onward and upward, as they say.

Though the mention of revenge had shifted the mood ever so slightly, it wasn't enough to keep you from catching up with your friends and chatting about the upcoming school year. For several on the team, school had already started, and conversation devolved into how hard the classes were and who had gotten hotter over summer vacation.

For you, though, school was an impending unknown you couldn’t wait to manifest—there was only so much you could do to prepare for taking five AP classes and balancing ‘The Three S’s’ (soccer, social life, and school) until you were actually there. And for that reason alone, you couldn’t wait for Monday to roll around.

Glancing up at the clock, you realized there were five minutes before the first meeting of the season was scheduled to start. You suspected Coach Rory would be showing up any minute now, as he hadn’t been late to a single meeting in the four years you’d known him. Trying to involve yourself back in the conversation after spacing out for a moment, you didn’t hear someone approaching from behind and jumped a little as soft hands abruptly covered your eyes.

“Guess who,” a sing-song voice called, teasing. 

 “Hmmm…” you smiled, already knowing who it was, but wanting to make a game of it. “Lauren?”

“Nope." 

“Allie?”

“Nuh-uh.”

Your smile widened, knowing that the girl behind you would soon grow frustrated and give in to revealing herself. Still, you attempted to catch her off-guard, spinning in a 180° so you were now facing the door, turned away from the main group. Not to your surprise, she stuck right with you, one of the few players who could anticipate and match your quick moves.

“Oh man,” you tried, guessing again, “…Kling?" 

“Ugh, come _on_ Christen,” she groaned. “You know it’s—

_TOBIN_!”   

You cringed as the voice suddenly gained twenty decibels, way too loud in proximity to your ear. 

_Tobin?_  

“Wha—?” You began to question the unfamiliar name when the hands that had been blocking your vision dropped. Blinking away the black splotches, you found yourself standing in front of someone you’d never seen before.

Blonde hair rushed past you—confirming that yes, it was in fact Amy playing a game of Guess Who—and everyone stopped to watch as the forward and this new, unexpected guest celebrated a reunion rivaling that of two long-lost brothers coming home from sea. 

“What are you doing here?! I thought you were going to play for FCLA? And that you wouldn’t be here for another week?” Amy started hounding the girl— _Tobin_ , apparently—with all sorts of different questions and you found yourself amused at the way the girl’s eyes grew wide, struggling to keep up.

The group had sort of crowded around the two now, curious to learn more about who it was that had gotten Amy practically shaking with excitement.

“Whoa, whoa Arod, slow down!” Tobin put her hands on Amy’s shoulders and took a deep breath.

“First of all, I _was_ going to play for FCLA…but after sitting in on a practice, I didn't like the vibe at all,” Tobin said. Her grin widened then, so much so it nearly split her face in half. “So, here’s the surprise: I’m actually joining the Slammers.”  

This did indeed surprise Amy, who squealed and couldn't stop jumping in place. It surprised everyone else on the team too, if all the raised eyebrows in your peripheral were anything to go by. It was rare for someone to just join Slammers FC like that, especially without anybody catching wind of it. Tryouts had been a month prior, though at this level it was pretty unnecessary; roster changes were rare and substantial. It was so difficult to the break pre-established political structure. Not to mention, the team’s success relied heavily on chemistry and solid inter-player relationships. The administration had been too hesitant to screw that up, despite the amount of potential talent out there. So you were curious to hear how this addition to the club had panned out exactly.  

The two girls were still talking a mile a minute when someone, Allie probably, cleared her throat and Amy realized that she was the only one in the room who knew Tobin. 

Torn between grilling her friend for more information and not being rude to the rest of her teammates, she pointed at Tobin and said, “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, missy,” then turned to face the team.

“Everybody, this is Tobin Heath. She’s on U-19’s with me and one of my favorite people in the whole world,” she paused, “besides all of you of course.” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kelley interjected. “The _national_ U-19’s?” 

“Yeah, what else?” Amy responded, grinning. 

Damn. There was your answer. She’d made her way so easily onto the Slammers FC roster because, well, she was _that good_. 

“Fuck yeah, we got another one!” Kelley shouted, running over to grab Tobin’s hand and lead her toward the rest of the group. Your teammates all clapped and cheered, welcoming the newest addition to the squad in an energetic swarm.

You squinted at Tobin, as if you’d be able to tell what made this girl good enough to be on the youth national team just by the way she walked across the room. She seemed unintimidated in this new environment, stepping with sure feet and a certain unhurried nature that made you guess she was one who rarely got heated on the pitch. 

Rory showed up then—6 o’clock on the dot—citing traffic problems as the reason for his tardiness (or punctuality, depending on who you asked). Everyone simply groaned in sympathy, knowing how awful traffic in the valley could be on a Saturday night. 

After a brief update from your coach and ice-breaker introductions—mainly for Tobin’s benefit—you were split off to practice some position-based drills. Really, this wasn’t even a practice, just the first meeting of the season to get reacquainted with one another, so Rory wasn't expecting serious effort yet. Practices would officially begin on Monday with the dreaded beep test.

You and the other forwards drifted toward the goals in the corner, kicking a couple balls between each other and shooting from various distances. Amy was the first to bring up the elephant in the room.

“So what do you guys think about having Tobin on the team?” She asked, eager to hear the others’ first impression of her best friend. 

You shifted your gaze to look back where the midfielders were dribbling across the turf. All of them burst into laughter as Allie got tripped up and fell flat on her back, exaggerating the movement for dramatic effect. Tobin was the first to offer out her hand, smiling from ear to ear at the whole display. 

You found yourself smiling too, in what felt like a reflex. An automatic response you couldn't control. How could anyone in the world not smile when a face as bright as Tobin Heath’s existed? 

“I, for one, am stoked,” Alex supplied. “If she’s as good in the run of play as she is juggling that ball right now, I think every other club might as well give in while they have the chance.”

“Same. I've definitely heard her name before,” Crystal agreed, also sneaking a look across the room. “She seems super chill, too.” 

“What about you, Press?” You hadn’t realized your teammates were waiting on your input until Alex said your name, too caught up watching the midfielder. Alex just laughed, waving a hand in front of your eyes to recapture your attention. 

“Yeah,” was all you could offer, biting your lip. “Agreed.”

You blushed slightly when they all laughed again, though you didn’t really know why. It wasn’t normal for you to feel self-conscious around your friends. You figured the overbearing August heat and weak air conditioning was probably to blame. That must've been it.

 

* * *

 

 All of Sunday was spent pacing back and forth in your room, triple-checking that your purple Jansport backpack had everything you could possibly need and scribbling additional reminders in your planner. You found yourself tossing and turning all night, unable to succumb to the slow rhythm of sleep. It was a different kind of nerves than when you were a freshman and a sophomore, but nerves just the same. You reached down and ran your fingers through Morena's fur as she rested at the foot of the bed, hoping the action would provide some sort of comfort and ground you.

You knew that junior year was all about handling pressure. You knew you were responsible for finding success in both academics and in sport, just as every other year before. You knew that if you wanted to get into a good college, following in the footsteps of your sister and making your parents proud, you'd have to stay focused. You knew that if you wanted to make the national team by the time you graduated college, continuous hard work was part of the game. And most of all, you knew you were absolutely, without a doubt, capable of achieving any goal you set your sights on.  

You were a natural goal-scorer, after all.

So, at 1:43 a.m. with just under five hours of sleep awaiting, you made the promise to yourself that this year would be better. This year would harbor no distractions, instead only unshakable focus. That when the time came for you to sink the game-winning penalty kick into the net, you wouldn’t hesitate. And you sure as hell wouldn’t miss.

_Will we even get that far? Are we already headed down the same path as last year, before the first whistle’s even blown? What can we do to make sure history doesn't repeat itself?_

Just before you fell into complete unconsciousness, your thoughts circled to that of the new Slammers FC midfielder, and left you wondering just what role—if any—she’d play in this upcoming season of your life.

 

* * *

 

The morning was off to a speedy start, and you felt pretty good despite a lack of sleep. You were excited to see friends that you hadn’t really made time to see during the summer but enjoyed being around in class. You were excited to get your life back into the structure that only school could provide. 

After well wishes from your mom, dad, and sister, you waved goodbye and hopped in your RAV-4, driving the two minutes to Julie’s house down the road. Of course, carpooling with your best friend had its benefits, especially when you could sing “Pon de Replay” at the top of your lungs and not be judged for it. 

“So which couples have broken up over the summer?” Julie asked, once she’d caught her breath from laughing at your best impression of Rihanna’s vibrato.

“Oh my god, Julie, we are so not gossiping before school’s even started,” you resisted. “Step one of a distraction-free junior year: No. Drama.”

“Okay, okay, I know,” Julie said, amused. “Just trying to scope out the dating pool for you, that’s all." 

You scoffed, feeling the unwarranted but frequent discomfort settle into the pit of your stomach whenever this particular topic came up. Dating was the one area of your life you preferred not to think about. Your school was just small enough that you’d already become acquainted with all of its potential suitors. Nobody had been successful in catching your interest, though a fair amount had tried. Lately, you’d been wondering what exactly caused you to shoot down every guy that gave a go at asking you out. 

One hadn’t been smart enough. One hadn’t been funny enough. One hadn’t been attractive enough. 

Come to think of it, _none_ of them had been attractive enough.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? It was a recurring problem for you, and as someone who didn’t like to judge too much based on looks—something that was pretty much impossible for a person to control—how could looks be the reason for your blatant aversion to giving any guy a shot? Objectively, all of them were _attractive..._ just not attractive to _you_. And you couldn’t figure out just how high your standards were set for that to be the case. Not knowing where your standards even were, _that_ was the scariest part.

_It’s just a bit of teasing from your best friend, Christen. No need to make a big deal out of it._

“As I said, no drama,” you spoke after a moment, keeping your voice steady and slow. “Plus, I enjoy living vicariously through your and Zach’s completely perfect relationship.” 

It was Julie’s turn to scoff.

“That’s weird.” 

“Sue me.”

 

* * *

 

You stood in front of your newly assigned locker, focused entirely on the white sheet of paper in front of you. Your schedule. The order of your classes for the next nine months. Also known as, Death.

Since getting out of homeroom five minutes previous, you’d been scanning each and every line thoroughly, committing the names and numbers to memory. You weren’t about to be that one junior that was late because they got two of their classes mixed up. Or God forbid, all of the freshman scrambling around with wide eyes, holding onto the paper like it was their lifeline. 

_Okay. Lit & Comp. APUSH. Spanish. Bio. Stat—_

“Excuse me.” 

A light cough from behind you. Light as it was, the noise startled you, causing the notebook that had been precariously balancing on the edge of your locker to drop to the floor. You winced a little when it landed on your bare toes, not because it hurt, but because you rarely ever spazzed out like that. 

Bending down to pick up the fallen notebook, you didn’t realize the figure beside you had the same idea until you felt the soft point of a nose hit just where the back of your head met your ear and a muffled “ow” puffed against your straightened black hair. For a split second, you felt lips against the helix of your ear, and in the shock of it all, couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through your body. You struggled to stand upright.

“I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t—

Whoa! Tobin?” You stared at the girl with wide eyes, now feeling even more embarrassed. _Of course_ it would be the one person who you had hoped to make a good impression on. The last thing you wanted was your new teammate thinking you were a total clutz and not trusting you enough to pass the ball. Not to mention, if you were going to see her at school—

_—Wait. At school? Why was she at your school?_

“Christen, hey,” Tobin drawled, smiling easily. She tried (and failed) to subtly rub her nose, and you felt your ears pinken.

You were running on sensory overload. Tingles still passed between your ear and the back of your head. Brown eyes kept your gaze pinned into place, crinkling in their corners. An itch began crawling up your neck _—_ from what had just happened or the way she was looking at you now, you couldn’t tell.

You had no idea what to say or do first. Several awkward moments passed until finally she spoke up and saved you from your misery.

“Um, my locker’s up there,” she said, pointing to the locker directly above yours. “Not to be rude but you’ve been standing there for a while, and I’ve gotta put these babies away.” 

Still smiling, she gestured to the books hanging off her arm.

One super toned arm at that, _holy shit_. Speaking of sensory overload, Tobin's arms probably deserved to be at the top of the list. 

_Christen. Focus._

“Oh my gosh,” you recovered, immediately grabbing your backpack and moving out of the way. “So sorry about that.”

“No worries,” Tobin responded cooly. “I would’ve let you do your thing, it’s just that I have meeting to get to and I can’t be late.” 

_How long had she been waiting behind me?_  

“—first impressions and all.” 

You paused as what she'd said fully sunk in. 

“Wait, so you go here? Today? This year?” _No shit, Sherlock, clearly she goes here! She has the locker right above yours!_

“Nah, I’ve just been stopping by all my teammates’ schools this morning. Gotta build that team chemistry, y’know,” she quipped, attempting a straight face, but unable to stave off her signature grin for very long.

You closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to offer her a smile. What was the best way to say _“I’m usually cooler than this, I promise”_ without making it sound like the opposite was true?

“Terrific!" 

Nope, definitely not that. Of all the things to say, that was what came out of your mouth.

She just looked at you and let out a quick exhale through her nose, in what you could only guess was a suppressed laugh.

"Glad you think so," her smile turned a little more teasing this time, turning back to her locker.

You tried thinking of ways to carry the conversation, hoping to show Tobin that you weren’t as awkward as your recent actions made you seem. But you were drawing a blank, standing dumbly next to her and re-reading the navy blue _Billabong_ printed on her t-shirt over and over again. The puka shells around her neck plinked together as she reached up to put away her books. That made you smile a bit more, looking the brunette up and down. Not many girls would even dare basketball shorts and a t-shirt at this somewhat pretentious school, but you found it a little endearing on Tobin. Really, you’d only met her twice. But it was evident that she was her own person, not a carbon-copy like so many others, and you secretly hoped you’d get to discover all the ways in which that was true.  

A clear of a throat brought your gaze back up and brown eyes connected with yours again, expectant and waiting. Tobin had put all the books away in her locker and you'd just been staring at her like a fool the entire time.

_God, so much for good impressions._

Then you panicked, and before either of you could say anything more, you were hightailing it out of the hallway and straight to your first class. You figured you couldn’t have handled the whole situation more poorly than that. And to think you’d have to see this girl every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday at practice…and every day at school…

It was only when you were a couple steps from the classroom door that you realized you’d left your locker open, both English summer reading books that were required for the class still inside.

_Oh, this is going to be a hell of a year._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow start and not much T/C interaction in this chapter, just had to set the scene a little bit so it all makes sense. More of the good stuff coming up, I promise.


	2. There She Goes

Twenty minutes had come and gone in your first class of the day. Your new English teacher was just wrapping up his annual speech about the importance of work ethic and your nerves had slowly crept up, prompting your knee to bounce repeatedly against the bottom of the desk. 

“Okay, the time for your first assessment has arrived,” Mr. Brazelton announced, his monotonous voice already having put half the class to sleep. “I’ll be coming around to check each of your summer reading books. And believe me, I _will_ know if you decided to put this off and scribbled in gibberish five minutes before class.”

Your heart was pounding not for the first time that morning, but instead of embarrassment, all you felt were the burning embers of frustration in your chest. You’d heard that Mr. Brazelton was a stickler for note-taking, and had made sure not to skimp on filling every page of your summer reading books with comments and questions. That all seemed moot now, as your books sat uselessly in your locker. You feared what kind of impression it would leave with your teacher when you asked to go get them—that you were forgetful, lazy, unreliable.

_“First impressions and all”—_ the phrase wormed its way into your brain like a melody stuck in a never-ending loop, self-doubt the accompanying rhythm. You thought of Tobin, and your frustration grew. The feeling wasn’t necessarily directed at her—more so at yourself, for already letting someone’s actions interfere with your schoolwork. And now you were minutes away from being humiliated again, this time in front of the man who administered 15% of your GPA and another twenty of your peers. At least none of your friends were in this class to make fun of you afterwards. 

Mr. Brazelton gathered up his attendance sheet and a pen and starting checking books on the opposite side of the room. You let out one brief exhale, relieved that you were given a little more time to plan your explanation. Your hands wrung together as you worked through different scenarios in your head.

_“Mr. Brazelton, I didn’t know that we had to bring in our books today, and—” no. It specifically said in the letter._

_“Mr. Brazelton, I was in a hurry, so I—” no. That’s never a good excuse._

_“Mr. Brazelton, there’s this girl who renders me incapable of producing any rational thought, you see,”—he might like that choice of vocabulary…but no._

Only one row away from yours now. You sighed, resigned to the fact that there was no easy way out, when the classroom door opened and everyone’s attention shifted to the side of the room. 

_Oh, brother._ You bit your lip and drew your eyes up to the ceiling, now confident that the Universe kept score of all the lucky shots you’d ever made in your life and had decided that today was the day your fortune ran out. 

Tobin stood by the doorframe, hands gripped around her backpack straps, pulling the material taut around her fingers as she shifted slightly from side to side. One of the counselors you didn’t know by name grabbed Mr. Brazelton’s attention and they both spoke low as he nodded. You were thankful, at least, that the interruption had stalled his walk around the room. 

You sneaked a look back at Tobin, hoping against all hope she wouldn’t see you, even though you were pretty much directly in her line of sight.Of course, the two seconds you risked a glance at her happened to be the exact two seconds that she found you. Her worried expression completely changed when you accidentally made eye contact. You tried sinking deeper in your seat only to realize that there was no space left to go. With the radiance of her smile, it was likely the plastic chair would melt under you anyway. 

Tobin lifted a timid hand to wave, something of relief crossing her face. Not completely certain if you were the intended target, you lifted your arm in response, twisting it at an angle that could either be interpreted as a returning wave, or just a really odd stretch. Mr. Brazelton shuffled over to Tobin and gestured toward your general direction— _oh God_ —and she nodded, eyes never leaving yours. 

One of the other wonderful benefits of not knowing anyone in the class? Plenty of empty seats behind you. Empty seats that would conveniently accommodate any new additions to Period 1 AP Lit & Comp. You sighed as Tobin sauntered towards your corner of the room.

_Christen. You’re probably going to be spending almost 24/7 with this girl for the next year. Get. A fucking. Grip._

“Long time, no see,” she said softly, shoving her backpack onto the desk and sliding into her seat. Compelled to justify your spontaneous behavior at the lockers, you spoke before she had the chance to say anything else. 

“Sorry for ditching you earlier,” you said a little too fast and a little too loud, drawing glances from a couple kids next to you. You brought your voice to a whisper before speaking again, “I, uh, I didn’t want to be late for class.”

You bit your lip once more—a habit your mom hated—and looked back at Tobin, whose smile was sympathetic but eyes disclosed a hint of amusement.

“It’s all good, no one wants to get on the teacher’s bad side the first day,” Tobin winked, then paused. 

“Oh! Speaking of,” she unzipped her backpack and rummaged through the big pocket, which was already filled with an array of crumpled up papers and empty water bottles.

“Don’t you need these?” she asked, pulling out two books— _your_ books, you realized, bewildered at the _CP_ written on the corners in silver sharpie.

“How—how did you even…?” Wide-eyed, you took them cautiously and fanned through the pages to confirm they really were yours. Tobin turned sheepish at the question, mumbling at a level you could barely understand.

“I, um…you dropped your schedule earlier and I might’ve taken a peak at it,” she shrugged and cleared her throat. “Saw that you had this class too, figured you’d forgotten your books ‘cause they were still in your locker—which, sorry if there was a reason you left them in there, I didn’t mean to overstep but that would really suck if you forgot…” 

She trailed off when you grabbed her forearm, a gesture you hoped would reassure her that she did the right thing. The muscles underneath her skin tensed though, and you retracted immediately, interpreting her reaction as something of discomfort. You could be pretty touchy with those you were close with, and you had to remind yourself that Tobin was not one of those people.

“Thank you,” you whispered in earnest. “Seriously. You just spared me from making it to Brazleton’s shit list on day one.” 

That earned a quiet laugh, but before Tobin could reply, said teacher was standing at your desk. You turned around to face the correct way in your chair, ears burning at the possibility that he had overheard that last statement. His expression was so permanently unmoving you wouldn't have been able to tell either way.

“Name?” He asked, scanning across the roll sheet as you replied. “Alright Ms. Press, let’s see if your annotations are up to par.”

You handed him your books wordlessly, focusing on the silver rings of your binder rather than your teacher’s critical gaze. In the quiet room, you tried ignoring the steady sound of fingers drumming behind you, but it was difficult. It was difficult not to think about Tobin and you didn’t know why. Wasn’t it always this exciting to make a new friend, especially someone that seemed as cool as Tobin did? Wasn’t it natural to want to get to know your teammates? What was it about her that made you question what you were feeling?

“Excellent work, Christen,” Mr. Brazleton finally spoke, the corners of his mouth barely turning upward. The action looked more like a grimace to you, as if he’d just remembered his facial muscles were movable after years of disuse. Unlike the girl behind you, he clearly didn’t put much practice into smiling. 

“Thanks,” you said quietly, not wanting to seem too eager for praise. He nodded and started writing on his clipboard. Just then you felt toes press gently into your calf, and you swiveled in your seat to find Tobin flashing her white teeth back at you. She mouthed the word _excellent_ , mimicking Mr. Brazleton, and wiggled her eyebrows a little. That made you roll your eyes, but a surge of pride ran through you when you realized that Tobin had been paying attention to Mr. Brazleton’s evaluation of your work. You kind of hated that there was a small part of you desperate to impress her, when you’d put so much work into not caring about the opinions of others. She kept wiggling her eyebrows and you shook your head, fighting off a smile of your own.

You turned back around in your seat when Mr. Brazleton moved to Tobin’s, suddenly hyper-aware that there were other people in the room. Either your teacher had completely missed the interaction between you and Tobin, or he had chosen to ignore it. 

“Name?” he asked for the hundredth time that morning. 

“Tobin Heath, sir.”

You listened intently to the conversation behind you, hunched over your planner, grinning at nothing in particular.

_Dear Universe, I swear I’ll never doubt you again._

 

* * *

 

The rest of your classes leading up to lunch had gone without mishap, and unlike English, you had plenty of friends in them—both facts for which you were extremely grateful. Now you walked toward the amphitheater with Alyssa and Steph, another one of your teammates, more ready for lunch than you’d ever been. On cue, your stomach gurgled fiercely, and the three of you burst out laughing.

“Someone’s hungry,” Alyssa glanced at you from the corner of her eye and smirked.

“Just looking forward to that burger I’m about to call mine,” you said, patting your belly a couple times. Private school had its advantages, including cafeteria food that didn’t consist of questionable meat patties boiled in a large vat of hose water, and most of the time it was actually pretty good. Because of soccer, you often had to take more consideration of what was put in your body and usually brought lunch from home, but you figured the first day back to school warranted celebration and a little leniency. 

As soon as you opened the doors that led to the amphitheater outside, you were immediately hit with a stifling wave of heat. You heard a loud groan and got pushed aside as Steph forced her way back into the air conditioned hallway. 

“Nope, no, nope, it’s too fuckin’ hot,” the sophomore complained, making a point to get away from the exit door as fast as possible.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” you teased but followed.

Steph scoffed. “I’m from Boston. You know I can’t do this El Niño shit.”

“Steph, it gets just as hot in Boston,” Alyssa pointed out. 

“And it’s not even an El Niño year,” you laughed.

“ _And_ , you moved here when you were nine,” Alyssa added, “Pretty sure that’s enough time to adjust.” Steph just groaned again, drawing the sound out longer than necessary. You _almost_ felt bad for ganging up on her.

“First of all, I hate you guys,” she stopped and turned, holding up a finger to your face. “And second of all, I don’t care what you say, we’re eating inside.”

You sighed, somewhat disappointed that you’d be stuck within beige walls rather than enjoying the sea breeze and the sunshine outside. Not to say that 95 degrees in the amphitheater was your preferred environment—hot weather was best served by some body of water, or at least somewhere you could wear a bikini—but being an LA native had conditioned you to bear uncomfortable heat with a pair of sunglasses and a smile. 

The three of you walked down the hall toward the cafeteria, and you thought ahead to the last two classes of the day, mentally visualizing which books you’d have to switch out before the end-of-lunch bell rang. As you approached the foyer, you made a brief change of plans, figuring it would be easier to switch out your books now instead of having to do it after you ate.

“Actually, y’know what, I gotta go to my locker real quick,” you said to your friends, doubling back. “Meet you at the usual table!” 

Alyssa just shrugged and waved while Steph mumbled something like “ _thanks for ditching us_ ”, and you turned down the corridor leading to your locker.

You were surprised to find Tobin standing there, brows furrowing at her schedule and one hand hovering over a textbook. A part of you wanted to shrink back down the hallway and come back later, just so you wouldn’t have to confront the girl again. But you hadn’t embarrassed yourself too much in English, and you knew that avoiding Tobin wouldn’t solve whatever issue you had in being around her. Especially since you would be spending so much time together in the future. 

_Just play it cool._

That was easy. That you could do. 

Probably. 

You took a deep breath and continued walking toward the lockers. She didn’t notice as you approached, all of her concentration on what was in front of her.

All of a sudden you got an idea, and your heart beat a little faster thinking about the scenario that could unfold. Careful not to be seen or heard, you sneaked around behind Tobin and waited. You fought a smile, recalling how your positions had been switched just a few hours prior. You wondered if Tobin found as much entertainment watching you as you had watching her now. Even in all her concentration, the girl couldn’t sit still. She was tapping her foot against the linoleum tile in an uneven rhythm, humming a melody that sounded strangely similar to that one Weezer song you couldn’t remember the name of. You moved a hand to cover your mouth, trying to stifle any noise that might escape at the amusing sight before you. Realizing how weird this probably looked to any passerby, you glanced around, thankful that the area was pretty well abandoned. 

“Boo!” you blurted out, not able to wait any longer, grabbing her side for a brief second. 

“ _Oh my lanta_!” Tobin yelled and jumped back. You furrowed your brows at the strange phrase, but let out a boisterous laugh when she put a hand over her heart and took a deep breath. Realizing that you were the instigator, her tense posture softened. 

“Holy crap, Christen,” she said, feigning a pout. “That’s how you treat me after I saved your butt in English?”

“I’m sorry,” you tried to control your laughter, not wanting to agonize the girl for too long. “I’m sorry, it was just the perfect opportunity!”

“Alright, I see how it is,” she pretended to glare at you, but it didn’t really have the desired effect. If anything, it just made her look even more adorable. The curl of her bottom lip let you know that she wasn’t really mad at you, like you hoped she wouldn't be.

“Hey, I’ll make it up to you,” you promised. Anything to put a real smile back on her face. Before you could thoroughly consider the pros and cons, you were speaking again. “Come have lunch with me—us. My friends. And me. And you. All of us. Together.” 

_Smooth._

“Unless you already have plans,” you added quickly, not wanting to assume she hadn't made new friends to spend lunch with.

“Well I figured I’d be eating by myself in a bathroom stall like all new kids do,” she joked. “But hanging out with you sounds much more pleasant.” 

As much as you knew she was kidding about eating by herself, that image made you frown. Moving to a new place and starting over must be really tough and you couldn’t even imagine, having never moved to a different town—much less a different state. Hell, you’d never even moved houses. You were even more glad you’d invited Tobin to lunch now, making it your new goal to help her feel as welcomed and accustomed to life in Palos Verdes as you possibly could **.**

“Don’t let the lacrosse girls fool you, we’re not in a real life rendition of Mean Girls here,” you quipped. That earned a chuckle from Tobin and you smiled widely. She paused after a moment, looking right at you. It was subtle, but you felt the tone shifting to something more serious, and held your breath. There was something off-putting but not entirely unwelcome about the swell building in your chest. It was rare that anyone looked at you the way Tobin did now—really looking at you, like she’d just made a discovery and was trying to figure out how she felt about it. Her eyes shifted and then steadied, settling on your own.

You always loved making direct eye contact with people; it allowed you to connect better in conversations and helped you sense others’ emotions. But with Tobin, right now, it was different. There was no longer conversation. You couldn’t get a read on what she was feeling. All the reasons for normally maintaining eye contact with someone didn’t apply, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. You studied her irises, the bronze texture complex like a kaleidoscope, and just as beautiful.

_Whoever says brown eyes are boring is dead wrong._

Now it was a silent challenge. A staring contest, except Tobin blinked, and every time she did, her long eyelashes beat swiftly against her cheeks. It was getting more and more overwhelming, but still you couldn’t look away. You were way too competitive to lose (and secretly glad you could blame it on your competitive nature, not how you enjoyed the way she made your heart rate slow, a solid knock against your ribcage every so often.)

It turned out your stomach would be the first to break, and you internally cursed when it let out one resounding growl. Tobin seemed knocked out of whatever trance she was in, shaking her head minutely and clapping her hands together. 

“Well I guess we should probably head to the cafeteria,” she mused, turning back toward her locker to gather her things. You bit your lip, letting out a long exhale through your nose. 

_What…was that._

Tobin stretched out a hand after shutting her locker, beckoning for you to lead the way. She seemed pretty unaffected by what had just transpired, drumming her hands against her thighs as you walked side by side, asking about which water fountains to avoid in the history building and how to talk the front desk out of giving you a tardy slip and _why did Ms. Casey dress like she was going to have tea with the Queen of England?_ The normalcy with which she was acting gave you some doubts. Maybe you overestimated how long you’d been holding eye contact, maybe it hadn’t been that long at all, was she even looking at you, could she have been staring at something behind you? 

_No, she was definitely looking at you._

You tried to follow her lead, answering all of her questions and pushing the panic away. Clearly she wasn’t affected by it, so neither should you be. With one more long exhale, you focused on the present and Tobin's calming voice.

When you made it to the lunch line, Tobin insisted you go before her, so she had more time to decide. Already knowing what you wanted, you went straight for the counter with the burger and fries combo and almost cried at the smell. You were _so_ hungry.

“Okay, I’ll have what you’re having,” Tobin said right behind you. “These smell way too good to pass up.”

You laughed, explaining that although it didn’t even come close to In N Out, it was a worthy opponent to most restaurants out there. Once at the end of the line, you told the lunch lady your ID number. The new payment system they’d started last spring made the line go so much faster. No more digging through pockets for change and holding up the line—just state your ID number and go. 

“ID number, please,” the lady prompted Tobin as you waited to the side. 

“Oh, uhh…” Tobin suddenly looked nervous, shoving the wrinkled dollar bills she was holding back into her shorts’ pocket. She shrugged off her backpack and started rifling through various sheets of paper, unfolding them and refolding them when they didn’t have what she was looking for. The kids behind her were starting to get impatient, craning their necks to figure out what was holding up the line, and the lady’s eyes narrowed. Tobin noticed this, and her shoulders shrank even more.

“I don’t, um, I don’t know my—”

“07053,” you came back up to the counter, once again stating your ID and smiling kindly at the lady. “You can add the charge to my account.” Lunch lady looked between you and Tobin in confusion, but typed the number on her screen and gestured for Tobin to move along. Tobin glanced at you in relief, picking her plate back up from the counter. 

“Thank you,” she sighed as the two of you walked toward the usual table. “I had no idea we need our ID numbers just to get lunch.”

“Hey, no worries,” you shrugged. “The kid behind you looked like he was gonna turn into the Hulk if he didn’t eat soon.” Tobin snorted at that and then quickly covered her mouth, cheeks turning red. 

“How much do I owe you?” she asked, ducking her head probably in the hope you wouldn’t see how much she was blushing. You figured there had been enough embarrassment between the two of you for the day, so you decided against teasing her about it and went along with the subject change.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” you waved your hand. Your parents wouldn’t even blink at an extra four bucks charged to the account. “Today’s on me, as a thank you for English and an apology for scaring you.” Tobin laughed, protesting that neither of those things warranted a free meal, but you wouldn’t hear it.

You remembered your new goal and halted your pace then, looking her dead in the eye to convey how important your next words were.

“But please, _please_ promise me you’ll memorize your number ASAP. It’s vital to your survival.”

Tobin agreed, nodding seriously. The two of you made it to the usual table, where Steph and Sofia were throwing wadded up napkins at each other and Alyssa was trying her damnedest to ignore them. Some things never changed from year to year, and the dynamic between your friends was definitely one of them. 

“Where’s Jules?” you asked in lieu of a greeting, sitting down at the table. Tobin stood awkwardly beside you, unsure of where to sit, and you patted the spot next to you on the bench. She smiled gratefully and sat down.

“Well hello, it’s nice to see you too, Chris,” Sofia said, rolling her eyes. “Julie’s probably making out with Zach somewhere.”

“Not true, Zach asked her to go sit with him and the guys so she went to sit with them,” Alyssa corrected. “She’s allowed.”

You nodded, suspecting it must be hard splitting time between your friends and significant other. Looking down at your burger, your stomach grumbled for the last time as you picked it up and examined it in all its glory. 

“Who’s your friend?” Steph asked with one eyebrow quirked.

Just about to sink your teeth into the patty, you balked and looked to your left, where Tobin was shoving fries into her mouth at an alarming pace. You’d forgotten that Sofia and Steph hadn’t met Tobin yet. Starvation _could've_ be a valid excuse for neglecting introductions and being rude to both Tobin and your friends, but regrettably, you put the burger back down.

“Oh yeah, sorry!” you apologized. “Guys, this is Tobin,” you gestured to Tobin, who only stopped chewing for a second to throw Steph and Sofia a grin. “She also plays soccer and just moved here from…” 

You trailed off, not actually knowing where Tobin moved from. It just wasn’t something that had come up in conversation yet.

“Jersey,” she answered for you, also realizing that she’d never told you of her origin. You were taken aback by this information; of all the places you would’ve guessed she came from, the Northeast was definitely not one of them. In fact, Tobin seemed to be the antithesis of an East Coast native, all laid-back and humble, everything the stereotypical “West Coast surfer” was. 

“Yo! A fellow yankee!” Steph held her hand out across the table for a high five. You laughed as Tobin, not knowing what to do with her greasy fingers, went in with a fist bump instead. Steph just gave her a funny look and pulled back her hand, while Tobin resumed eating as if nothing had happened.

“Anyway, Tobin, this is Steph and Sofia. And you already know Alyssa, obviously,” you took a deep breath, finished with your obligatory introductions and fully settling into your seat. You licked your lips. You were going to eat this damn burger, and you were going to do it now. 

“So you play soccer, huh?” Sofia asked Tobin as you tried not to moan at the taste of your food. 

“She doesn’t just ‘play soccer’, Sof,” Alyssa interrupted. “She’s on the youth nash team.”

Sofia’s eyes widened as she let out a low whistle. 

“Now we got _two_ hotshots,” Steph grinned. “This season’s gonna be a breeze.” Before you could question who the other “hotshot” was, Sofia was jumping in.

“Press here singlehandedly won us states last year,” she explained to Tobin. “She’s the best striker you’ll ever play beside.”

“Oh hush, you,” you chided, not wanting Sofia’s misplaced bragging session to go any further. Tobin was on the _national team_ , you highly doubted she would agree with that sentiment. As if you could compete with the best forwards in the country. Yeah, right.

“I can’t wait to be on the field with her then,” Tobin said enthusiastically. She said it like she meant it, like she actually believed Sofia’s overstatement to be true.

“I’m really not that good,” you tried to downplay your skills, in case this ended up being an extremely off year for you like it was when you were 13. There was already too much pressure on you, Tobin’s expectations didn’t need to be added to the pile.

“And we have no idea if this season will be a breeze,” you continued, looking pointedly at Steph. “It’s a round ball, you don’t know where it’s—” 

“Gonna bounce, yeah, yeah captain, we know,” Steph interrupted. “No need to be so Pressimistic, aren’t you the one that’s supposed to boost our morale?”

You rolled your eyes at the awful pun, not being the first time you’d heard it from one of your teammates. 

“No,” Alyssa cut in, “She’s the one that’s supposed to make sure players like _you_ don’t get too overconfident.”

You looked at Alyssa, silently thanking her for taking your side. 

“All I’m sayin’ is that if you two have as much chemistry as I think you will,” Steph said, looking between you andTobin. “You’ll be the best duo in the state of California.”

Your heart stopped for a second before realizing what kind of chemistry Steph was implying. She was using it in the context of soccer, obviously, why was your neck starting to feel so itchy? You were pretty that you could only get allergic reactions by eating something you were allergic to, and there was none of that on your plate. 

“I hope so,” Tobin spoke up, locking her eyes with yours. She looked at you with the same gravity she had at the lockers—except this time, in front of your friends and all the students milling about, you couldn’t gather the courage to match it. You opted for the dark woodgrain of the table instead, exasperated when you caught yourself comparing the brown hue to Tobin’s eyes. 

 

* * *

 

You walked down the steps to the gym after the final bell rang, overall satisfied with how the first day of school had gone. Ending the day with P.E. would prove to have its ups and downs you were sure, but you knew you could handle it. Anything your teacher made you do in P.E. was child’s play compared to the kind of training Rory demanded at practice. 

Reminded of Rory and training, you felt a rush of excitement. You couldn’t wait to get back on the field tonight with the rest of your team. Even the impending beep test didn’t fill you with the dread that it often did, and you weren’t sure what to accredit your good mood to.

“Hey, Christen! Wait up!”

You halted to a stop on the sidewalk and turned around to see who had called your name. Tobin was jogging towards you, a longboard at her hip. She grinned and you clenched your hands tightly, suddenly overcome with the urge to smooth out all of the baby hairs sprouting wildly from her head.

“Hey, Tobin,” you smiled. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much,” she replied, suddenly looking apprehensive. “Um, so listen, you know how we have English together?”

“Yeah…?” you encouraged, not sure where Tobin was going with the question **.**

“Well, I was wondering if I—since you’re the only person I know in that class, I just thought it might be good to—and since we’re in the same club, I thought just in case—” she paused and took a deep breath. “Can I get your cell phone number?”

_Oh._ You were confused by the way she’d stumbled at the request, as if she was asking for something she really wanted but was afraid she couldn’t have. It wasn’t like she was asking for your social security number or something, why was she so flustered now? You figured you’d be giving her your contact info sometime soon anyway, as would the rest of your club. That’s just what teammates did. 

“I don’t have a cell phone,” you said quickly. Tobin’s face fell. 

“Oh, okay,” she nodded dejectedly.

“My parents won’t let me get one ’til I’m 17,” you were hasty to recover, already missing Tobin’s contagious smile. “But I can give you my home phone? And my AIM?”

“Oh yeah, yeah!” There was that smile. “That would be great!”

“Cool,” you replied, pulling out one of your notebooks so you could write your information on a piece of paper. None of your friends really called your house phone anymore, instead opting for the more convenient instant messaging. You figured it would be the same with Tobin, if you even talked to her at all when you weren’t together. You handed her the piece of paper.

“Brownsuganumba9?” Tobin’s chuckle was teasing but not unkind. You narrowed your eyes at her. 

“Don’t you dare judge. That name is part of my identity.”

Tobin raised her hand in the air, as if to signal she was innocent, but her eyes told differently. 

“Hey, I think it’s a great name,” she defended. 

Your eyes narrowed even more, skeptical as she continued to laugh. 

“ _Really_ , it’s cute,” Tobin insisted. “Suits you perfectly.”

You blanched, not sure whether Tobin was calling _you_ cute by extension, or just your screen name. Either way, it made you blush, and you scratched your forehead to cover your face so she wouldn’t see. 

“Oh, yeah?” you challenged. “What’s yours then?”

Tobin smirked, flipping her longboard over and tearing off a piece of the binder paper you had given her. She wrote on it and handed it back to you wordlessly. 

_soccerizcool_ , it read, with a phone number scribbled hastily underneath it. You raised your eyebrow and burst out laughing. Tobin rolled her eyes.

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to judge your name but you can laugh at mine, I see how it is,” Tobin said in mock annoyance. She tried to reach out and grab the piece of paper back, but you resisted, pulling away and shoving it in your pocket. 

“It’s just so predictable,” you admitted. 

“Psh, whatever,” Tobin scoffed and waved her hand. The sun reflected off the watch around her wrist for a second and you squinted against the brightness of it. 

_Oh crap,_ you thought, suddenly reminded of a thing called time. _How long have we been talking?_

“Hey, what time is it?” you asked, trying to read her watch upside down to no avail.

“Uhh,” she looked caught off guard, as if she wasn’t expecting that to be the next words out of your mouth and was a little disappointed by it. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a black RAZR flip phone. You wanted to ask why she was looking at her phone for the time when she had a watch, but figured it was just one of Tobin’s many quirks.

“It’s 3:02?” The statement came out as more of a question, Tobin probably wondering if that number held any significance to you. You sighed and nodded—it wasn’t super late, but you didn’t want to leave Julie hanging in case she had already made her way to your car. Plus, the sooner you got home, the sooner you could start your homework and get ready for practice.

“Alright, I guess I better head out now,” you confessed, a little disappointed that your one-on-one time with Tobin was coming to an end, for the time being. She was really growing on you, between her smile and the playful banter youfelt comfortable enough to trade back and forth, you were already craving more of her presence.You tried thinking back to the first time you’d met Julie, or Kelley, or Alex, or Lauren, or any of your friends, and if you’d felt this way about them. There was definitely some of the same feeling, yes, you remember…but to this degree, and this immediately? 

“Oh okay, see you at practice!” Tobin smiled, though you could tell she was a little sad to part ways as well. You returned her goodbye and started to walk away. Before you could get very far though, you heard a soft _wait_ and long arms were wrapping heartily around your body. You stood still, not expecting it, and the hug was too brief for you to return. The only response you could offer was giving Tobin’s arm a light squeeze as she pulled away.

After breaking apart, you tilted your head curiously, and Tobin shrugged.

“It felt weird saying goodbye without a hug,” she offered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You didn't have time to reply as she threw her longboard down and started skating away, tossing a  _see ya soon_ over her shoulder. You just stood there, watching her almost run into two other seniors on the sidewalk and wondering how someone who did _that_ could be so graceful with a ball at her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, apologies for taking so long. Between all the soccer drama constantly happening and my team being in the Stanley Cup playoffs (go Preds!), a lot of my free time has been monopolized by sports. (I'm sure a lot of you can relate!)  
> Anyway, this chapter was originally much longer, but I decided to break it up so it wouldn't take another month to update. Hope you liked it! If you didn't, I am all for constructive criticism. 
> 
> P.S. How 'bout them Red Stars, amirite?!? They are crushing it. 
> 
> P.P.S. Happy birthday, TH.


End file.
